


Queering Daniel Craig’s James Bond

by xphil98197



Category: 00Q - Fandom, James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:01:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26651845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xphil98197/pseuds/xphil98197
Summary: This was an assignment for my Queer Literature and Film class:Queer one of your favorite stories, films, texts. Be creative. Be experimental. You can create any kind of hybrid text. It can be story like, script like, a rap, a poem, a rant, a mishmash of everything and anything. There can be art involved and video. Have fun with this. This is a chance to express yourself creatively. Make the exam 4 to 10 pages.  And you can certainly put yourself into the story...Advice: Fuck Shit Up
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Kudos: 49





	Queering Daniel Craig’s James Bond

“The job is done, the bitch is dead,” Bond’s voice is cold, calculated. There’s no soul left in him. The only woman he'd ever loved, besides his mother is dead, and he couldn’t save her. A watery grave swallowed Vesper Lynd’s last breath, and the key to her cage. M is a steady voice in his ear, the only woman who hasn’t betrayed him. So far.

  
“Take the bloody shot,” M orders, and Bond fell. The water is cold. This is what he gets as penance for Venice, water that will swallow his secrets the way Vesper swallowed his declarations of love.

  
“007, I’m your new Quartermaster.”

  
“Brave new world,” the last time Bond fell into a pair of eyes this green, it ended in a Venice canal. So he buried the feelings for the man the way he buried his past: alcohol and anonymous bodies, always female- ever admit what he wished for in the dark.

  
The hotel room in Macau is steamy as Bond lathered his face with shaving cream. Fresh out of the shower, he’s wrapped in nothing but a towel. There is a knock on the door, and he gets his gun, the Walther PPK that Q coded for his palm print and handed over in the National Gallery in London.

  
“Room service,” Q’s voice echoed through the door.

  
“I didn't order anything, not even you,” Bond opened the door. He tucked the gun into his towel and headed back to the bathroom. He picked back up brush and started applying the shaving cream to his face, watching Q over his shoulder in the mirror.

  
“I’ve got some new information,” Q straightened his glasses.

  
“Aren’t you a little over-qualified to be delivering messages?” Bond smirked.

  
“Well, it’s all part of the learning curve,” Q shrugged. “Whoever stole the list has already decrypted it. They posted the first five names on the web.”

  
“It was only a matter of time,” Bond said.

  
“That’s just the start,” Q continued, swiping across the screen of his phone. “They’re posting five more next week, and the week after, it’s some kind of sadistic game.”  
Bond picked up the straight razor and met Q’s eyes in the mirror.

  
“Cut throat razor, how very traditional,” Q’s voice is dry.

  
“Well, I like to do some things the old fashioned way.”

  
“Sometimes the old ways are best.”

  
Bond flipped around the razor and offered Q the handle.

  
“Are you putting your life in my hands?” Q asked, eyes sparkling, as Bond headed out to the balcony and sat down. He knelt between Bond’s legs, and shaved down the cheeks in careful strokes, stopping to wipe the lather off on the towel that was now slipping down Bond’s legs.

  
“M’s already briefed me on the list,” Bond spoke carefully as Q shaved him. “Raising the tantalizing question of what you’re really doing here.”

  
“My official directive was to help ‘in any way I can’,” Q said.

  
“Like spying for Mallory?” Bond asked, as Q stopped shaving.

  
“Keep still, this is the tricky part,” Q carefully shaved under his chin. “There, that’s better. Now you look the part.”

  
“And what part’s that?” Bond is close enough to feel his breath.

  
“Old dog… new tricks,” Q murmured.  
  
The casino is dark, the corners full of shadows. This wasn’t the typical casino where drunk tourists played for coins. This was a sinister place, full of people for sale for the right price.

  
“Good evening,” Bond said, lips barely moving. He sized up the room while he said hello.

  
“Evening,” Q is in a white tuxedo to Bond’s black, back against a pillar.

  
“Don’t touch your ear, I’ve got three exits and lots of blind spots.”

  
“I’ve got them covered,” Q sipped his champagne.

  
“You look handsome in that tuxedo,” Bond smiled.

  
“You don’t scrub up so bad yourself.”

  
“It’s amazing what one can do with an extra pair of hands,” Bond smiled.

  
“You’re telling me,” Q retorted with a smile.

  
“You gamble?”

  
“I like a little flutter now and then,” Q shrugged. “Who doesn’t like to take chances?”

  
“Like last night?” Bond dropped his earpiece into his glass of champagne and headed for the casino cage.

  
“See what she’s done to you?” Silva asked Bond, running his fingers across Bond’s chest, the scabs where he’d recently dug out the bullet. He spread the side of Bond’s unbuttoned shirt.

  
“Well, she never tied me to a chair,” Bond was quick with a retort.

  
“Her loss,” Silva shrugged.

  
“Are you sure this is about M?”

  
“It’s about her… and you…” Silva leaned in. “And me… you see, we are the last two rats. We can either eat each other, or eat everyone else. How you’re trying to remember your training now. What’s the regulation to cover this?” He leaned in to whisper in Bond’s ear. “Well, first time for everything, yes?”

  
“What makes you think this is my first time?”

“Oh, Mr. Bond… All that physical stuff… so dull,” but Silva is intrigued.

  
M died. All the women he cared about in his life died. EVERYONE he cared about died.

  
“Mind you, there wasn't much left to work on, only a steering wheel,” Q rolled up the garage door to show Bond the fully restored DB5. “I believe I said, ‘Bring it back in one piece’, not, ‘bring back one piece’. Anyway, enjoy your downtime, 007.”

  
“Q?”

  
“Yes?”

  
“Well, now you know exactly where I am all of the time. Will you do something for me?”  
“What do you have in mind, exactly?”  
“Make me disappear.”  
“May I remind you that I answer directly to M. I also have a mortgage. And two cats to feed.”

  
“Well, then I suggest you trust me, for the sake of the cats.”

  
“Well, it's lovely to see you, 007. Lovely,” Q waited until Bond left and planted his face down on his desk. “Oh my gods, could I have been any more idiotic? ‘I’ve got two cats and a mortgage’.”

  
“Could you sound any more sorry for yourself?” Eve slid a mug of tea over to him. “That sounds like a gay pity party.”

  
“He’s James bloody Bond,” Q muttered into his hands. “What the fuck? He’s heading off to fuck knows where, and I sound like a school girl with a crush.”

  
“You do,” Eve nodded with a chuckle. “Have you told him?”

  
“Are you out of your mind?” Q stared at her in horror.

  
“It’s not like he doesn’t know, Q,” Eve said. “Come on now, go meet him and tell him.”

  
And that’s how I came to be here, on the other side of a door, looking out the peephole at James Bond. Because I’m a sucker, and have zero gay dar, and apparently like to be used by straight men before saving their ass, just so they can run off into the sunset with someone else.

  
“Hello, Q, I’ve missed you,” another door opened between us, years and worlds apart.

  
“Bond,” Q sighed. Those eyes… still bluer than the sky the day god made the world.

  
_You may have my number, you can take my name, but you’ll never have my heart. Where you go I go, what you see I see. I know I'd never be me without the security of your loving arms keeping me from harm. Put your hand in my hand and we'll stand - let the sky fall._


End file.
